Once
By J. Keys
(written to and inspired by the song “From Where You Are” by Lifehouse)
You can never tell where it will come from, that one thought or memory that suddenly appears beside you in the passenger seat. He rounded the corner, fast, on his way as the cool and warm air rushed through the half-open, front windows. The sky was clear and the sun was high. He wondered what was missing as he furrowed his brow beneath the daylight and panned a view from left to right. The tint on his gun-metal gray wrap-arounds slowly darkened as his head then turned toward the solution.
The sky welcomed itself in as the sliding glass roof moved back. The warmth and glow made him smile and breath in deeply, but also sigh in exhale. He downshifted into another turn while on his way. The engine revved high and the turbo spun and spooled a soothing whisper as it pulled the car forward while throwing him back into his seat like so many hopes and regrets often do. Where he was going began to matter less against where he never had a chance to go.
And there’s the rub. He once thought that it was his way of seeing things, how far he saw them ahead, that separated him from so many; opportunities, possibilities, people. But it wasn’t that at all, really. The truth representing that gap was simply how far behind everything was in his wake as he looked over his shoulder, waiting and wishing that it all could have meant and been so much more. With that last thought and sigh he cleared the final turn away from the boulevard, engaging the ramp and straight away at full throttle… and a yet again empty passenger seat.
My personal preferences aside I can’t give you permission to do this, no one can. In this regard the decision will be heavy and so will the consequences, though in the latter you won’t be alone …if you can survive the adolescence of the impact.
What you need and where you need to end up are as unformed questions as the solutions to your problems and, maybe, perceptions. Nevertheless I can hear the desperation and the desire in your voice and pauses. And though my mantle and way often call me to rescue… I can’t this time; not from where you are or where I stand. The best I could do is steal what is clearly not free and that is clearly not enough anymore.
I know… and maybe you do as well but that alone does not change the gravity or the power of circumstance; both constant. Today those powers mock you, one day they will carry you and, my personal preferences aside, we will each smile from the inside out… knowing. This is my only hope.
Caleb turned the corner of the rock face, quietly, and saw her standing there looking over the edge. He leaned upon the stone like a street lamp post, so comfortably, like he was waiting for a ride without a care of when it arrived or where it was going. Even knowing his presence she didn’t turn around or even shift her eyes.
Caleb observed her intently and then spoke with a perfect mix of sarcasm, spite and love as well, “I’m not here to save you, you know… “ She stared ahead, across the precipice, occasionally looking down into the deep, yawning chasm as her beautiful black hair danced in the passing breeze to reveal her even more beautiful eyes in the dusk-like light that fought to make its way through the dense clouds surrounding the land. Caleb continued as he breathed the wind-rushed air, skirting about, “…and you’re not the first person to stand there, by the way.”
He shrugged himself away from his lean against the stone wall, his arms folded as he began to pace behind her at a distance. You could hear everything; the air as it caught and captured the jagged edges of each rock line, stone and pebble. Not the least of which was each of their intentions and attitudes to say nothing of the mineral structure they stood upon. The gravel and dirt crunched beneath Caleb’s boots as he walked and the sleeves to his black trench coat scored against its own surface.
He walked to the edge beside her, about six feet away and clasped his hands behind his back in a typical “at ease” position. He breathed in deep through his nose and sighed in exhale as looked down into the collective nothing as he commented, “Well… that is certainly a long way down…” She still didn’t turn to him or acknowledge his words.
“You know a friend of mine once told me something I’ll never forget and it has stuck with me through every easy and difficult time.” Her eyes barely moved to their left corner as he spoke, looking onto the murky horizon. “He said to me that failure is hard but success is far more dangerous. If you’re successful at the wrong thing then the money and praise and status could lock you in forever.” She didn’t move or respond.
Caleb nodded to himself and continued. “You know, I’ve never learned a single thing from anything I ever did right the first time —quite an ironic realization in all that we strive for in trying and wanting to be successful or even free. And yeah, learning the hard way hurts… but it’s the only way you ever really know anything, much less learn anything. Nothing easy is ever worth as much as something not easy. Life isn’t what’s worth the struggle each day; it’s the struggle that makes life worth what it is and becomes.” She only slightly turned her head toward with a look to him like he just said the stupidest and craziest thing ever. Caleb continued to look ahead and smiled with the response, “Yeah… I know… but consider this, ” he leaned and peered over the crest as he kicked a small pebble into the seemingly, endless pit. “The distance between here and there is short enough to answer your question…” Caleb turns his toward her as he watches her watching the pebble fall, “but it’s long enough to think of all the reasons why it’s not the right answer… and there’s no way back.”
*start track; Pocket Full of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield*
Caleb stood up, tall, stretched his back slightly and turned around slowly and began to walk away. As he did she turned her head away from the cliff and over her shoulder at him and he stopped but didn’t turn around and said, “Oh, and one more thing, no one in this life will ever care more than you; to do, to go, to stop, to escape or to fight… for anything, from anything.” He then half-turned with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, “But you’ll never care, believe in or love yourself as much as those around you that want and need you in their lives to do, to go, and to escape or fight the very same things.” Caleb looked down, pensively, and then up again at her, “I don’t know, sounds worth the trouble to me…” And as he walked away, his back to her, down the trail leading to the base of the mountain, he uttered one last note as he and his voice trailed away, “…you can climb down or you can fall down, but you will only chance surviving one…”
Angel walked out of the rusted and derelict gas station with a map clutched in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She looked around, slowly, from left to right as she collapsed her sunglasses from the top of her head over her eyes. She breathed in heavy and deep as she sighed in exhale, wiping her forehead of the sweat that seemed to instantly form from the hot, unforgiving sun. It combined with endless, desolate and flat horizon of sand that surrounded her. It appeared so dry, tired and lifeless… like it wouldn’t end and there was no way out, just a road that went one way or the other… disappearing into the rippling heat.
She was exhausted. But more than that she was out; of energy, of heart, of desire. Caleb was gone. She was alone. All of this way, traveled. Bullets fired, blood shed and an evil vanquished. It almost sounded perfect, she thought to herself, as she huffed a sarcastic laugh. But it wasn’t. He was one, not out of a hundred, a thousand or even a million… he was the one. Evil, on the other hand, has copies of itself, everywhere, waiting to step in where the last version left off. Byron was just another copy… and now there was no one left to stem the tide or, selfishly, there was no one left for her.
She walked up to the driver’s side door of her car and frustratingly threw the bottle of water into the passenger seat as she leaned, sitting, against the door. She just couldn’t let it go. His face was burned into her mind… not as a memory but right in front of her. Every blink and change of scene was preceded by every, rare, smile he revealed and each good thing he did to save her from the consequences of his choices. His words rang in her head like the bell from a church tower, “A hero isn’t something that exists; a hero is something that a person becomes when they accept to carry out the will and overcome the circumstances that anyone else won’t or can’t. This time that’s me.” But why? Why did he have to go? He was the good guy. She wasn’t sure if she hated him or God or… and then her eyes began to well up as she stated to cry. She let out a short whimper before buttoning her lip and folding her arms, refusing to become a victim of things she could no longer make different or undo. She opened the door and sat down, cranking the ignition of the classic, but unkept, convertible Mustang. As the car sat, idling, she leaned upon her left hand before regaining a majority of her composure. She glanced, briefly, at the map still in her hand and then laughed, abruptly, before tossing it to the floor. She shifted the car into gear and accelerated out to the right, onto the very same road that Caleb rescued her from before.
**Begin Track; “Gotta Be Somebody” by Nickelback**
The wind wasn’t cool but it was a welcomed sensation as it passed through her hair. She had no idea where she was going but, for the first time, she didn’t care. Being kidnapped, shot at and almost blown up can have that affect on you. As she drove she remembered one other thing Caleb told her, “Despair is a prophecy that always fulfils itself, hope is not a method and faith is the only real thing we can ever have in this life that can’t be taken away.” It made her smile to remember that even if she wasn’t sure if she had any more faith left. As she looked in the rearview mirror she noticed something coming up behind her. She raised up, slightly, looking closer at the reflection before turning and looking over her shoulder. It was a semi-truck. She turned back around but not before, for a just a moment, remembering and believing. She watched it in the rearview as it approached. It signaled to change lanes, in order to pass her and as it did so did a black, low profile car appeared from its bowels… it was Caleb’s car… (on beat, time +1:01) it was Caleb.
Her heart soared as her stomach knotted. She tried to breathe and scream at the same time but it didn’t work. He tailed her car as the semi-truck accelerated on, blowing its horn in a congratulatory resonance. He dove the car into the lane adjacent to her and pulled up beside her, rolling down his window halfway, giving her a tilted look over the rim of his sunglasses with that crooked smile and future-telling wink. She quickly pulled the car to the side of the road as Caleb pulled over just in front of her. She tore out of her car and ran toward him as he slid out between the scissor door of his.
She tackled him with a hug, impaling her face upon his chest as he enclosed his hands and fingers around her head and hair. She then, instantly, pushed him back and punched his arms with her fists as he laughed and complained simultaneously, “Owww…. it’s nice to see you too.”
“You knew, didn’t you?!” she accused him. He half-laughed and shrugged his shoulders, searching half-heartedly for an explanation. “I thought you were DEAD!” She exclaimed. Caleb tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes in that now-so-classic fashion. She rolled her eyes in a slight guilt, “Well… I did…”
With her arms folded and looking down he cradled her face in his right hand, “I know…”, he sighed. “But there was something more important than me or stopping Byron…” He paused “…that I had to make sure was taken care of.”
She looked up as he touched her face and asked, “Yeah? What…”
He moved his hand down and over her heart as her eyes widened, “I didn’t go back for Byron just to kill him. I went back for you.” She stepped back, jaw slightly dropped. Caleb put his right hand on the upright, gloss-black door of his car and continued, “He would have come after you, they… ” He paused and looked away in thought, “…they would have come after you. Someone… ” He looked back at her and sighed as yet another rare, genuine smile grew upon his face at her, “And… when you save someone’s life you merely do them a favor… when you ensure someone’s livelihood you give up a part of yourself to protect that life.” Her throat and lips began to motion so as to ask ‘But why me?’ to which he answered before she asked, “Because, when you have great power doing a good thing is easy. Answering the question ‘why?’ or to do something great…” He paused, taking a step toward her, lowering his chin to look at her directly beneath his brow “…takes a reason bigger than both.”
She cracked a smile, realizing that he was talking about her, stepped back and walked around to the passenger side of his car and opened the door to get in. She stopped just before sitting down and asked him across the roof of the car, in a sarcastically conceited tone, “So, when did this all become about me?”
Caleb laughed and shook his head and sat down behind the wheel. She followed and waited for his answer, intently looking in his direction. He peered at her without moving his head and replied as he shut the door and pushed the car into gear, “It always was…” The car revved and raged forward as she smiled and sat back in her seat, placing her hand over his.
Whisper – End Title
By J. Keys
(written to “Come Clean (Chris Cox Remix)” – Hilary Duff)
*music starting at -7:23 or +2:11*
[[ She ran toward the car in the pouring rain, frantically and desperately trying to reach him before he left for what would be forever. The rain fell down like a hammer pounding on a nail or like an angry man breaking down a door... unrelenting. It seemed almost to have wanting in slowing her down. Tears streamed from her eyes and melded with the torrential drops of life that beat away at the earth as much as it did her efforts. The break lights of his car illuminated and the engine came to life with a resounding roar followed by a tiger-revving and searing sound. She began to slow her run in defeat as her eyes became wider and sad. The vehicle burned its tires against the wet pavement boiling the water beneath as it launched like rocket into space, whining and fading into the darkness and rain-filled haze of the night-cast street. She stood in pause like a rented movie, left on hold for something else to take its place, crying and without belief... ]]
*Caleb’s narrative begins, but no switch to the car cabin is made by the camera, just panning between her and the exterior of it driving away and passing under street lights and turns*
*Switch to Car @ -6:09 / +3:25*
Caleb: You know Albert Einstein once said that the world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of those who don’t do anything about it…
*Switch to her*
Caleb: In that vein another great mind, Bruce Lee, once said that there is no weapon more deadly than the will…
*Switch to car*
Caleb: I have to say that I agree with them both, polar opposites of destiny that nonetheless underscore what I do and why I must…
*Switch to her*
Caleb: But I believe that in my quests and in my life, no matter what I want or what forces I must contend with to make those things right… I am still a man, a human being… and that these elements added with one final truth bring my purpose full circle…
*Switch to car*
Caleb: That good certainly begets good as much as evil can equally destroy evil… And I am both we are all both… But that without something to convict us
*Switch to her, close-up of her face, on her knees, and then a refocus behind her*
[[ Caleb appears behind her in the rain from the shadows between the awnings of a door to a building on the sidewalk ]]
Caleb: There is no such purpose…
[[ Her eyes widened with her back turned to him, not hoping but knowing that, miraculously, he was there. She turned around, rushed toward him and instantly thrust her arms around him, clutching him toward her with all her might. He gently embraced her, merging his cheek and lips against her rain-soaked hair and in slow-motion cinema his eyes closed for her like they would not for the rest of the world. And as they closed an eyelash brushed her skin just slightly and like the hand of God ran through her blood and heart and she said simply while clinching his body between her fingers... ]]
*camera pans out, rain still falling, empty streets*
Her: Thank you…
*echo at -3:13 / +6:22 “rain falls down…” continues into fade out*
Someday
By J. Keys
(Written to “Someday” performed by Nickelback)
Left with not much more than the metalically textured taste of blood in his mouth he licked his lips and thought… “Could be worse, I suppose…” The car idled softly in the background like a prize steed awaiting his master; a nighthawk black pearl masterpiece of precision with a rooftop open to the air and God above. He stood there as she walked away, his charcoal-black trench coat blowing past his tall-figured silhouetted mass, blood-like crimson lining shining its way from behind the matte colored canvas, whisking in the wind like stained swords from ancient battles, his hands shoved deep within his pockets, eyes squinted; forced by the cold blowing wind –the cold nature of all things true and all things free. He waited, standing there occasionally looking up at the moon above the seascape horizon as a white-faded shimmer danced upon the water with no one shape, name or reason but to reflect the far and away beautiful but forever untouchable two faced sky.
He watched as she didn’t turn around… but he wasn’t waiting for that, he was just making sure she would never forget. He dared her without a word. He just stood there with the right hand of defiance invisibly on his shoulder. He then removed his hands from his pockets and opened the door to his chariot awaiting and got in replying with a sigh to most of it and a reluctant nod to the rest. And just before he released the clutch and dropped into first gear he took a deep breath in and out, peered to the corner of his eye and whispered to the world and fate, “Someday…”
Whisper – The Trap
By J. Keys
(written to “Whisper” by Evanescence)
Caleb ran down the dark, damp hallway fleeing fast away from them. His breath echoed off of the cold, wet, concrete walls and his serpent-like long trench coat flailed behind him, its inner, blood-red lining warping in out of sight within the black, outer shield. They thought they had him as they pursued him at speed… but he wasn’t running away… he simply led them down a path.
He rounded a corner, flattening his back and palms to the wall, holding his breath. They stopped to listen at the corridor crossing. He slightly then, and purposely, released a near-inaudible murmur as he whispered a breath.
Alerted, their charge continued toward him and he smiled, continuing his chase into the darkness cut by brief moments of light piercing through the open ways and windows throughout the structure. They closed in from the south and east entrances as they spotted his shadow scattering between the load bearing pillars of the loft building and they opened fire.
Bullet after bullet passed him as he ducked, dodged and evaded each scathing arrow of death. He increased his charge toward the elevator shaft on the north side of the floor as 3 rounds pounded him in the back –his body armor spread out the pressure of the impact but nevertheless increased his forward momentum. He leapt toward the open doors of the endless cavern and dove toward its sure and black abyss, falling by the eyes of his hunters.
They saw him fall and slowed their attack pace, lowering their weapons, as the approached the place where he disappeared. An eery and certainly unsure silence befell the once heated and deadly pursuit. They believed now they had completed their task and this thing was now no longer a bother to them or their design. Then a loud bang rang out from within the empty space and a nauseating blur of black and crimson red flew past their field of view, rising up and away from previously where their intended prey tilted over.
Caleb rode the obliterated elevator cable he had severed with a gun shot on the way to his assumed fate, holding a remote detonating transceiver and mashed down on its one and only trigger for it’s one and only purpose as he rocketed to his escape.
The room full of pillars illuminated with red LED’s displaying a 10 second timer counting backwards as the hunters suddenly turned hunted realized the mousetrap they had been led into. Only as their mouths began to enlarge to scream did their pupils preceded them in awe and fear –both all too late as the timers all read 00:00; fire and force then filling the room.
( 00:00 clock, explosion, escape to roof and jump coincide with time between +2:17 and +2:44, final roof-top explosion and jump occurring on +2:44 )
Just as he reached the roof level the chain reaction below yawned and screamed like a demon intent on taking him back, concreate and darkness now no longer his friends. The building rumbled, shook and groaned with each chained explosion moving skyward, toward him. He ran toward the tower’s edge, stepping upon it to jump while simultaneously being thrown from the dying edifice as prustined its own last breath of life and words through flame and force launching Caleb to the roof of a building across from the street.
Caleb uncurled from the fetal position upon the opposite roof and looked across at his burning work of art, half-smiling through the soot and marks on his face as he achingly lifted himself of the ground. The flames reflected in his eyes with hints of red and blue as emergency vehicles pounced on the scene attempting to discern the madness from the mayhem. Caleb just laughed under his breath, recalling what his master once told him; “Any hunter can kill or be killed but a true predator is always willing to become a part of the trap he sets to succeed or destroy his enemy.”
With the fire to his back and slight wind beneath his coat tails he walked away and thought; “Two down; more tomorrow…”
She turned her head from the coastal view of the waters filling the Amalfi toward him. Her dress befit the moment; perfect and white cast against a grey sky before the impending storm. His tuxedo played stark against the light and air as he stepped toward her, silently, staring and saying nothing; in this moment there were no words.
*Flash To Opposite Scene*
She looked into his eyes with apology and sorrow as the rain soaked her world, his face and everything around. Disbelief and truth are betrayed and beheld within a stare. She stepped back from his plea and want, her hooded cover the only thing left to allow her to hide anything. She turned toward the tunnel and began to walk away, crossing her arms underneath one another. Over her shoulder he became a foggy and silhouetted blur; her condensed breath trailing her body like the smoke from a burning building.
*Flash Scene*
And so they danced as the rain fell hard on all things. What was perfect design and particularly beautiful began to run away and become flat from the descending sky; the veneer dissolved and the real revealed –ignored in the face of all blind truth. Pulling her toward him he closed his eyes as she did hers….
*Flash Scene Change*
And the tunnel with its dark surround took her in and she began to dissolve. He stood afar without a move or a pause; rage and regret betrayed and beheld within a stare.
This poem is being reposted for Patti and the two losses her family has endured recently. It was originally written to the end title theme from Stephen King’s “The Shawshank Redemption”, composed by Thomas Newman. -J. Keys
A Wave But Not Goodbye
By J. Keys
The message is not hidden
It is in every song
It is in every track
But the meaning is not given
It is wrapped like a blanket
In each word spoken back
For the truth is warm and never cold
And so shall no such thing own you
And no matter what will never lack
Now my road is this way
And I wave but not goodbye
Perhaps one day come with me
Without a fear, without a sigh
For all things change
As 3’s and 4’s do too
You who read this are great, I know this
Even though I did not choose you
Great is a dream
It is a place far from here, now
But tell my stories, speak my name
And do not forget how
For the message is not hidden
But the meaning is not given
And truth is always warm
In a wave but not goodbye…
The rain poured down like that from a waterfall -crashing and relentless. Caleb watched from a distance in the cold, blue afternoon standing amongst the trees, away… within a hazy smokescreen-like fog camouflaged beside the other graves within the cemetery.
He just stood there. Watching them all pour over the casket… like the rain. He saw them all there and in a morbid fashion he could see everything for the first time, in real time as they cried and lowered their heads at the tragedy that appeared before them.
He just stood and watched. His breath condensed against the cold and wet atmosphere, taking the consuming shape of sharp and painful things… like the claws of a dragon and teeth of a tiger flushing past his face and rising through the falling rain like an angel.
And then she approached the tomb, not sad, but dead with sorrow of what she saw but really only what she thought she knew. She stood above the box becoming engulfed by the storm… drenched as she looked upon the chasm. Then she reluctantly cast down a single rose and as it landed thunder rang out like the sound of titans at war. Everyone shuddered and everyone shrieked… everyone but her. And slowly one tear from her eye trickled down her cheek standing out from the billions of rain drops crashing from the sky.
Then Caleb did what he would never do for anyone else. He reached to his head, grasped his felt fedora hat in his right hand, clinching it, and brought it to his side. The rain took its place upon his body, upon his shoulders.
Before she turned away for good she looked aimlessly… perhaps randomly… perhaps fatefully upon the trees in the distance… seeing only the faint appearance of a shadow fading into the mist and rain… and for a moment her hope sparked… but then faltered in despair of the impossibility.
( cue track: Linkin Park – In the end [instrumental only] )
But somewhere inside she didn’t give up and she looked up far into the overcast sky through the sharp vein of trees and branches scattered about like rusted prison bars… and as Caleb looked on somehow he knew this too and faded finally away into the fog.
He licked his lips of life and placed his hat back upon his head, sighing with relief and sorrow… and a little bit of hope. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and cinched the gap closed as he scaled the leaf-covered yard of stone. And he walked knowing; knowing that in the end the return of all things is a force of fate that always makes its way back and can never be denied…
One last, again
By J. Keys
(written to and inspired by the live cover of “Billie Jean” by Chris Cornell @ http://www.myspace.com/chriscornell)
Caleb sat back in his chair at a table inside Marlow’s Tavern, listening to the band play song after song in between all the chatter and smoke-filled air. His bourbon sat next to him, always within arms reach; a half-inch with two cubes of ice. As he sat shoulder to arm with one leg upon another seat he would roll the edge of his Riedel glass away as it sat upon the hemispherical base allowing the drink to tumble and breath as much as it amused him to do so. And then she walked in…
“Why was it always that way?” Caleb thought as he looked up and suddenly captured her entrance from across the floor. Perhaps it was because though we always wanted great things we never knew when exactly to expect them and just as suddenly try to make them fit instead of letting them take their place. And she was certainly both great and sudden whenever she entered the scene, simultaneously causing it.
Just before the chorus began Caleb arose from his scratched and tattered, oak throne and approached her. He walked as if he were a part of the song that played but with no particular beat or pace… more like the narrator in your head or over your shoulder as you look around and write down mundane and hopeful observations of the world before our eyes after each frame and blink. He placed his right hand on her left and taking her coat with his left and said, “This time it’s my turn…” as he handed her jacket to the host and led her to the dance floor the same way that she did so seemingly long ago.
And so they danced. She tried to bury her face in his chest, though kind and warm, the action doubled to avoid his eyes connecting with hers… but it only brought her closer to him; such was usually the case when one tried exchange the truth for anything else. If perfect were a scent instead of just a word then her hair and neck would have been the central source. It wasn’t just the calling of a memory but a rare, tangible, grasp of hope wrapped in pure joy. Her fingers moving up the back of his neck and through his hair returned equally rare and tangible proof.
Their intertwine and movement was like one; the protector and the protected united and invincible. Why anyone wouldn’t want that completely continued to be a mystery to him… but her leaving this scene, he knew, would be an inevitability. There was always more to be said but it could never speak louder than the song or lyric that filled their ears and their hearts; loyal, but perceptively tragic, servants to circumstance instead of fate…
And before the final lines Caleb pulled her from his cover and looked into her cutting and soft eyes and he saw in her what she really wanted to be and would freely admint but not submit to. So he stepped back slowly, one foot after the other, almost creating an uncrossable gap just before her fingertips lost touch with his as she half-stepped forward to hold on. A lesson to be learned in the power of every decision and song; remembering to always think twice…
How wonderfully music raises our lives and makes us hear things and feel things we can’t find the words to say… or just didn’t realize that we already knew. We all have words and ways, some more specific or potent than others. Some so similar that they reflect almost the other edge of our truly, and my, most deadly and gracious weapon wielded -thought. This is how she reminds me… the other edge of the double edged sword -my sword. Not the same or identical… more so and just simply identifiable. Two sharp lines set upon the same rail, struck from the same fire of trials and error, hammering lessons and consequence, folded over and over to become brazen and resilient. Sharpened by slow, long swaths against the stones of heroes and villains to take all of that into their being as the blade… to make use of it together cutting through the unknown, the wrong, the terrifyingly new and the seemingly inescapable old. But as to what hilt and handle will bring this forge to completion or close? Hmmm… all great weapons of good and grace take time… perhaps this new found glory will become mine… in any case that’s the story so far.
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